


Artificial Insouciance

by starrysummernights



Series: As the Summer Rains Fall [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Greg Lestrade, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Anal Sex, Angst, Come Marking, Comeplay, M/M, Masturbation, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Omega Mycroft, Omega Verse, Pining, Sort Of, literally all the angst, seriously these two are idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-23
Updated: 2018-06-23
Packaged: 2019-05-27 06:06:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15018317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starrysummernights/pseuds/starrysummernights
Summary: Insouciance-"a casual lack of concern or indifference; disinterest; apathy"





	Artificial Insouciance

**Author's Note:**

> Filthy, fluffy angst. 
> 
> Idiots pining for each other while fornicating.

Bright, silvery moonlight shone in at the large, open windows of Mycroft’s bedroom, splashing against the carpet and walls and casting grey shadows in the dark. All the candles were out and even the fire which usually burned in the hearth was extinguished, the unseasonably warm breeze which accompanied the moonlight through the windows necessitating the elimination of anything that would generate heat.

Before he’d gone to bed that night, Mycroft had thrown the heavy duvet and blankets off his bed, leaving only a thin sheet as cover, but he’d eventually kicked that off too and splayed himself out on the mattress, nearly naked and miserably hot. Mycroft _hated_ being hot, suffering as he dealt with sweltering, humid air that made it hard to breathe. He hated heat, the stickiness of summer- but this was only Spring! Spring was supposed to be cool and pleasant and all things lovely. Mycroft liked Spring. Usually.

He always dreaded summer, and how much the temperature would climb, sweating and getting uncomfortably _moist_ beneath his arms and the bends of legs, where his thighs met his groin. He bathed twice a day, once in the morning and again in the evening, washing away the stale smell of sweat which lingered no matter what good-smelling toiletries he used. Mycroft even perspired on his scalp, the sun beating down on his head, and while that had gotten loads better since he’d cut off his silly curls and wore his hair shorter, it was still uncomfortable. Mycroft avoided doing work or exerting himself in any way when it was hot because he _hated_ sweating.

At the moment, sweat beaded unpleasantly on his forehead, sliding down his face as he gripped at the headboard of his bed, clammy hands slipping against the wood as he steadied himself while Gregory roughly moved his hips, shoving himself in and out of Mycroft’s body at a fast, erratic pace. Upright on his knees, Mycroft’s position felt unstable even though Gregory’s arms were wrapped around his chest and middle, cradling Mycroft to him while he was fucked. Mycroft was still pitched forward with every thrust, and his arms strained from struggling to keep him vertical. He didn’t really think Gregory would let him fall face-first into the headboard, but he wasn’t taking any chances, and Mycroft’s cock bobbed between his spread thighs, hard and neglected.

Gregory’s mouth pressed against the back of his neck, hot and wet, sucking gently over the place where Mycroft’s scent glands were, where a bond bite would be placed. The skin there was extremely sensitive and Mycroft shuddered, his cock giving a hard throb. A moan escaped past his tightly closed lips.

“Yes, sweetheart.” Gregory breathed, arms tightening. “Gods, you’re so gorgeous…”

Mycroft knew he was lying, but he appreciated the compliment all the same. At the moment, he didn’t know how Gregory could think he was anything less than disgusting. Mycroft’s entire body was slippery with sweat, the salty scent of it in the air, thighs slicked with his own wetness and even _more_ sweat. His hair felt damp, drops of perspiration clinging to the ends, and Mycroft squirmed when Gregory buried his nose in it, taking a deep inhale. He desperately hoped the smell didn’t turn the Alpha off-

“Oh… _fucking gods_ …” Gregory moaned, thrusting harder, and the sound of their skin slapping together was humiliatingly obscene in the silence of his room. Mycroft blushed even while he pushed back, taking more of Gregory’s cock, panting shakily through his nose, and doing his best to keep his indecent moans inside.

It was a very difficult feat to accomplish.

Mycroft hadn’t had Gregory in _days_.

Licentious sexual pursuits came second to his duties and with the arrival of the Scottish delegation, Mycroft hadn’t had time to spare. Gregory hadn’t either. He’d been occupied with his own responsibilities in addition to helping Mycroft with his, and while Mycroft’s goal hadn’t been to keep the Alpha so busy that he wouldn’t have time for pursing other Omegas while Mycroft himself was busy…he admitted the unintended result was extremely favorable. Having been unable to meet anyone else for carnal fulfillment, Gregory’s ardor for him that night was palpable. Flattering. And exciting.

Gregory’s lips skimmed along the back of his neck again and Mycroft twisted, tipping his head to the side, mouth falling open in bliss when he obediently mouthed at the sensitive skin.

“Gregory-!” Mycroft pushed back on his cock harder, fleetingly wondering what it would really feel like to be bitten. He’d heard it was painful, but he didn’t see how that was possible. It already felt so good to simply be touched and kissed there. How much better would it feel to be cradled by the Alpha, pleasured, and feel the prick of teeth at the exact right moment-

The idea was moot. That would never happen.

Mycroft shoved it away and focused on the situation he was currently in. His cock ached, so hard that it literally hurt from neglect. He wanted Gregory to touch him- or be able to touch himself. Fluid beaded at the tip, dripping in a clear, spidery strand onto the bedding below.

“Yes, sweetheart. Yes. Tell me- what do you need?” Gregory’s lips brushed against the shell of his ear. “Anything, Mycroft. Anything you need, sweetheart. I promise. What do you need me to do?”

The words, moaned in his ear, were incredibly arousing. A fresh surge of pleasure shot through Mycroft, his eyes flaring wide, when Gregory sucked at his earlobe, taking it into his mouth and running his tongue over it- “Oh!” Mycroft couldn’t take it any more and, taking a calculated risk, he released his death grip on the headboard and dropped one of his hands down to fist at his cock. It felt so good- wonderful relief- the touch he’d needed for ages. Mycroft knew he was making terrible noises as he stroked himself haphazardly in time with Gregory’s thrusts, but he couldn’t stop and his body _tightened_ in response. He stroked quicker, pleasure welling up through his pelvis, so sharp and sweet it stole his breath away.

“I’m…G-Gregory- I’m…”

“Oh, gods, yes…” One of Gregory’s arms was suddenly gone from around his middle and Mycroft startled when fingers brushed his own, the message clear. He was more than willing to let Gregory pleasure him, obediently removing his hand, and then Gregory’s hand was wrapping around his cock, causing Mycroft to release a moan which felt as if it were pulled from the depths of his soul. Gregory’s hand felt wet and rough and nothing like Mycroft’s soft palm but still very, very perfect. Mycroft moaned again- then yelped when his body fell forward with Gregory’s next thrust. It happened too quickly to catch himself. He flinched, expecting his face to make painful contact with the headboard- but Gregory caught him before he hit and Mycroft stared at the wood grain from mere inches away, stunned.

“Oh, fuck! Gods- I’m sorry! Sweetheart? Are you alright?”

“Yes.” Mycroft nodded, blinking sweat from his eyes. “Y-yes. I’m…I’m fine.”

Gregory’s hand caressed his cheek, gentle, tipping Mycroft’s head to the side for a brief kiss. “Sorry.” He whispered. “Didn’t mean for that to happen.”

“I should cert-certainly hope not.” Mycroft managed, voice unsteady in what he thought was a very embarrassing way, but Gregory didn’t seem to notice. He righted them, shifting and directing Mycroft to shuffle forwards and place his hands back on the headboard. The position made it easier for him to stay upright, and with one of Gregory’s arms securely wrapped around him again, and his other hand on Mycroft’s cock, it was perfect.

Gregory kept the pace even and light this time, stroking Mycroft’s cock as he slowly rocked himself in and out, and while Mycroft had loved the rough thrusts from earlier, there was something very nice to be said about this. Being held by the Alpha while he was cared for and pleasured and made to feel lo-

Stop.

Stop it.

He would _not_ think of that. Not _that_.

Mycroft clenched his eyes closed. He forced himself to concentrate only on what he felt. The sensations rising hotly through his body. His stomach jumping. The easy press of Gregory’s cock inside his slick passage which tightened as he spiraled closer to orgasm…

His thighs shook, cock rigid and throbbing. He was moaning nonstop, and suddenly Gregory was moving faster, moaning in his ear, encouraging Mycroft and speeding up the motions of his hand. Mycroft froze, muscles locking, and he hunched forward, crying out as he came, his watery ejaculate squirting onto the bed beneath him in quick pulses. Gregory fucked him through it, causing Mycroft to writhe from the almost overwhelming pleasure and he thought he felt, very very briefly, the shivery scrape of Gregory’s teeth against his neck, over his scent gland…but it was done so quickly and Mycroft was so scattered from his orgasm, that he supposed he’d only imagined it. He had to have done.

When it was over, Mycroft was trembling, his legs feeling like jelly and threatening to collapse. Gregory eased him down to the bed, his still-hard cock sliding out of Mycroft’s arse while they moved, and Mycroft let himself be rolled onto his back and then watched in a daze as Gregory started touching himself, his hand a dark blur over his cock. Gregory was also touching him, Mycroft realized, his free hand kneading at Mycroft’s hip, his thighs, between his legs where Mycroft was still wet. Gregory’s breathing sped up and Mycroft knew he was getting close to his own release, when he remembered his promise that he would be able to satisfy Gregory in a sexual manner- but having Gregory manually stimulate himself to orgasm was _not_ Mycroft satisfying him.

“Please, may I?” Mycroft blurted and Gregory opened his eyes inquisitively. The motions of his hand slowed.

“May you…may you what?”

“Please, may I touch your c…cock?” Mycroft had to force that word past his lips. He’d never said that word his whole life and it felt strange in his mouth, awkward. “If you don’t…don’t mind, that is.”

“Oh, gods, Mycroft.” Gregory shook his head incredulously, leaning down to kiss him and letting his hand fall away from his cock. Mycroft took that as all the permission he needed to wrap his own fingers around the hard length, squeezing experimentally. He’d never touched another cock that wasn’t his own. Doing so now was a very odd feeling, but strangely arousing. Gregory’s cock was larger than his own, both in length and girth, and Mycroft spanned his fingers over the heated flesh, narrowing his eyes and staring at it with curiosity before squeezing again.

“Oh godsdamn fucking gods above.” Gregory cursed breathlessly, his cock jerking in Mycroft’s hand, wetness dribbling from the head. Mycroft realized he was supposed to be pleasuring Gregory, not satisfying his own inquisitiveness, and he tightened his grasp, causing Gregory to curse again, and gave a few tentative strokes. Gregory’s cock was sticky from Mycroft’s natural wetness, damp in his palm, and when he moved faster, his grip firm, it hardened even further in his hand. Gregory’s lips went lax against his, breaths turning uneven.

“Good?” Mycroft couldn’t help asking, wanting to know if he was doing well and satisfying Gregory in a competent, efficient manner. The Alpha huffed out an unsteady breath.

“Very good, Mycroft. Gods. Fuck…very good.”

Mycroft happily beamed at the praise, and Gregory mouthed a curse, closing his eyes, looking pained.

The angle quickly became uncomfortable. Mycroft’s wrist started to cramp. The muscles in his upper arm burned. He refused to stop, though, not only because he wanted to please Gregory, but also because he was mesmerized by the way Gregory’s hips moved, thrusting into the tight circle of Mycroft’s hand. He was moaning, sounding increasingly desperate, and Mycroft took pride in the fact that it was himself, Mycroft Holmes, who was causing the Alpha to sound like that. He was, in fact, giving him so much pleasure that clear fluid was leaking continuously from the slit of his cock, slicking against Mycroft’s palm, a fine trembling starting in his thighs.

“Oh, Mycroft!”

Gregory’s cock hardened further, and Mycroft couldn’t help but feel relieved. He hadn’t known if he would’ve been able to keep this up for much longer. He hoped Gregory hadn’t noticed, and that his performance hadn’t gotten sloppy near the end-

Gregory ducked his head, catching Mycroft’s lips in a harsh kiss, and inhaling sharply as he came. Mycroft felt the rush of semen through the rigid flesh before it began spurting out in long, white ribbons, striping over his stomach, shockingly warm against his skin, and he gasped, surprised.

“Oh- fuck! Sorry- I’m sorry-“ Gregory twitched away, the last trickle of semen landing on the bed beside Mycroft and staining the linen. “I didn’t mean...I shouldn’t have done that.” They both looked to where his semen was decorating Mycroft’s stomach and groin, glistening oddly translucent in the moonlight. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine, Gregory.” Mycroft ventured, not sure why he was so upset. “I don’t really mind.”

Gregory didn’t seem to hear him. “I’ll get something to clean that off you.” He slipped off the bed and made his way across the room to where Mycroft directed him, behind the screen where he usually bathed and where there were fresh linens laid out for his ablutions in the morning.

Mycroft relaxed with a sigh. He would’ve much rather had Gregory stay- he knew he hadn’t meant to mark him like that (and Mycroft didn't care if Gregory Lestrade marked him but that wasn't something he wanted to examine too closely). While he was gone, Mycroft gingerly trailed his fingers through the strands of cooling semen. It was viscid and thick. Gelatinous. Entirely unlike his own ejaculate which was clear and watery. Mycroft webbed the semen between his fingers, remembering the way Gregory had swallowed his ejaculate down after he’d brought him off with his mouth. Omegas did that sort of thing for Alphas too. Mycroft had heard that the pleasure elicited from such an act was extremely gratifying and he could attest to the veracity of that statement. No doubt it was something Gregory would enjoy. Mycroft wanted to please him in such a way.

Mycroft glanced to make sure Gregory wasn’t returned yet…then tucked a wet finger into his mouth. There was only the barest trace of semen, faint but still bitter. It reminded Mycroft of the herbal tea he now drank each morning. He trailed his fingers back through the semen and brought them to his lips again. Pungent. Bitter. Acrid. Overwhelming salty. Not exactly unpleasant, but Mycroft didn’t think it would be all that wonderful to have a mouthful of it. He licked at another finger, rolling his tongue in his mouth to assess the flavor-

“What did you just do?”

Mycroft jerked his fingers away from his lips at Gregory’s scandalized question, face flaming with color. He hadn’t heard him returning. “Nothing.”

“Did…Mycroft. Did you just-“

“No.”

They silently regarded each other. Mycroft’s heart beat hummingbird fast at being caught doing something so…disgusting. Because what if he were wrong? What if people didn’t do that sort of thing- put another person’s spendings in their mouth. Had Gregory not meant to do that to him? Mycroft’s stomach dropped sickeningly when he remembered how he’d clutched at Gregory’s hair, pulling him onto his cock while his tongue swirled around him and- what if he’d made Gregory swallow his ejaculate? And hadn’t realized? And Gregory had been too polite to mention it?

Mycroft wanted to childishly cover his face with his hands and hide, and when Gregory eased back onto the bed holding the flannel with which he’d meant to clean Mycroft off- not let Mycroft _eat_ _his_ _semen_ \- he gave in to the impulse. His fingers blocked out what little light there had been but now at least he didn’t have to look at Gregory and see his look of revulsion.

“Mycroft…”

“Please, Gregory…don’t.” Mycroft begged, humiliated to his very core. He couldn’t remember ever being so embarrassed, even after he found out Sherlock had looked at his implements. “I wasn’t…whatever you think happened…it…I wasn’t…”

“Sweetheart.” He sounded so kind and Mycroft huffed, but didn’t lower his hands. Maybe if he ignored him Gregory would drop the subject.

There was still semen on his stomach.

The unexpected swipe of a tongue along his inner thigh made Mycroft gasp, and he lowered his hands without meaning to, staring at Gregory in surprise. The Alpha gave him a smile, then repeated the action, running his tongue up from Mycroft’s knee and up, up, up until he reached the remnants of Mycroft’s wetness. Mycroft hardly dared to breathe as Gregory licked his skin clean, staring at him all the while, and Mycroft was powerless to look away. Gregory even took his cock in his mouth, cleaning away the lingering traces of his ejaculate, and Mycroft’s mouth fell open, a small moan escaping.

“There’s no reason to be embarrassed, sweetheart.” Gregory crawled up Mycroft’s body so he could kiss his cheek. “There’s not a part of you that disgusts me, and there’s nothing on this godsdamn earth you could do to make me think that.”

Mycroft trailed his hands up Gregory’s arms, glad to hear that, but avoiding his eyes all the same. “But…is that…what you _think_ I did, I mean. Not that I actually…is it…normal?”

Gregory hesitated. “It…can be, but…why did you want to do that anyway?”

Mycroft shrugged. It was a hard feat to accomplish whilst lying flat on his back in bed with a handsome Alpha leaning over him, but he thought he managed well enough. “I’ve heard…that…is something Omegas perform for their Alpha lover- and I greatly enjoyed your particular attentions in that regard. A few days ago.” He clarified unnecessarily. “I wanted to know what…that…was like so I could perhaps please you in that way in the future.”

Gregory made a small noise and sat back so he could cup Mycroft’s face, forcing him to look him in the eyes. “You please me enough, sweetheart.” He said. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you have to do something you don’t want because you think it will please me.” He shook his head. “That would have the complete opposite effect.”

Mycroft flicked his eyes from Gregory’s down to his lips. “But what if there’s something I want…but it will disgust you?”

“I don’t think that’s possible.”

“It might be…”

“Try me.”

“I want you to kiss me. Right now.” Mycroft declared, and Gregory cocked his head to the side.

“Why would that disgust me?”

Mycroft couldn’t say it, though. And it took Gregory a few seconds to work out the reason why. When he did, his eyes went wide, lips parting in shock.

“Does that mean you find it disgus- _mmph_!” Mycroft suddenly found himself being kissed to within an inch of his life, and one of them was moaning and when he realized it was Gregory, he felt a fresh burst of arousal centered in his very core. Mycroft did as he pleased, taking control of the kiss and parting Gregory’s lips with his tongue, sweeping inside, tasting himself in his mouth- the musky, sharp flavor of his ejaculate and wetness. He realized that he liked it. He liked knowing, in some dark, possessive part of his anatomy, that Gregory tasted like _him_.

When they parted, both were breathing heavily and Mycroft was half-hard again. He rested his forehead against Gregory’s.

“Not disgusting then?”

“Gods, no.”

“Good.” Mycroft smiled. “Then I do believe that I would enjoy tasting your semen.” He admitted, feeling bold. “So long as that is still not something which would disgust you.”

“I…” Gregory’s voice cracked oddly, and he had to settle for shaking his head. Mycroft felt better, and he told Gregory so.

“I’d like to try now, if you don’t mind.”

“I don’t think so.” Gregory reached for the flannel, explaining before Mycroft could jump to conclusions. “You don’t want to right now. Trust me. It’s drying. Cold. Gross.” He swiped the flannel over Mycroft’s stomach. “If that’s…uh…something you want…then that’s…we can…um. Maybe next time.”

“Very well.” Mycroft conceded as Gregory swiped at his own body carelessly then tossed the flannel to the floor while Mycroft got settled. He fully expected Gregory to stretch out on the bed beside him and they would curl up together and rest like they’d done last time. Mycroft had enjoyed that. Immensely. He’d been looking forward to it all evening- almost more than the sex.

But instead of sinking onto the bed and taking Mycroft in his arms, Gregory levered himself from the bed and reached for his clothes which were strewn over the floor. “I should go.”

Mycroft’s stomach dropped, some horrible emotion stealing over him, leaving him breathless. He reached for the thin sheet and pulled it over him, suddenly feeling exposed. “Why?”

Gregory stepped into his trousers, doing up the fasteners, avoiding his eyes. “Well. I think it’s best for me to leave. Don’t you?”

“Yes, of course.” Mycroft automatically agreed. He didn’t want Gregory to think he was clingy and weak. He didn’t require the Alpha to stay after they’d made lo- had sex. That wasn’t needed. He’d been sleeping by himself all his life. There was nothing different about doing so now, just because they’d had sex.

“I don’t want us to forget about the time and run the risk of getting caught.” Gregory explained while Mycroft’s thoughts eddied around like muddy water. “Right now, is a good time for me to leave. The palace is dark. Everyone’s gone to bed. It’ll be easy for me to sneak back to the barracks. If I wait until later…” He shrugged. “It would be a lot harder.”

It was barely past midnight. There were still hours before the morning activity would begin, servants rising at dawn to go about their duties. No one was out in the corridors this time of night. Gregory could stay and easily leave a few hours later. Mycroft wanted him to stay. He wanted him to sleep in his bed, hold him like he’d done last time, and experience the warmth of his skin and scent and-

“Yes, you’re right. You should leave.” Mycroft agreed, but Gregory still didn’t look at him. Mycroft suddenly felt unpleasantly _dirty_.

Gregory finished dressing while Mycroft grappled with what he wanted to say, readying and then dismissing four different arguments to keep Gregory in his room. None of them made any sense, and made him sound pathetic besides. He finally quit trying. His nightclothes were all the way across the room where Gregory had thrown them earlier, but for some reason Mycroft didn’t want to leave the safety of his bed to go and retrieve them. Inexplicably, he didn’t want Gregory to see him nude.

“Mycroft? Will you be alright?”

Mycroft jerked his head up. Gregory lingered at the end of the bed, fully dressed, giving him an inscrutable look. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be alright?”

“You wouldn’t. I just…” Gregory shrugged, looking around the room and patting his pockets, then glanced at Mycroft again. “Goodnight, Your Highness.”

Nothing else Gregory could have said to him could have hurt Mycroft more. His chest physically _ached_ with pain which radiating out and out and out. Gregory had kissed him so gently and the air smelled like sex and his bed was still warm where Gregory had taken him and now he was leaving and calling Mycroft by his honorific. Mycroft could feel his shields slamming up, face settling into the cold expression which had earned him his now infamous moniker.

The Ice Prince of Northumbria.

It was the only way he could get through this ordeal.

After the ball celebrating Sherlock’s betrothal to Prince John, and Mycroft’s subsequent disappointment, he’d spent a long time mentally preparing himself, accepting his own situation and the nature of his affair with Gregory. He couldn’t give Gregory up, no matter how much further intimate interaction with the Alpha may hurt. Putting emotional distance between them was therefore necessary, Mycroft had realized, and the only real solution. After all, he’d been doing that very thing the whole course of their previous relationship, though it’d strictly been professional. He’d known an intimate relationship was vastly different, but he had spent long hours contemplating the reasons why and reasoning with himself why such and such a feeling was wrong, and deciding how he should feel instead.

He’d thought he was ready.

He wasn’t.

None of his rational arguments now made any sense. The steady conviction he’d felt earlier that day splintered apart.

“Goodnight, Captain Lestrade.” His voice was mercifully stable, betraying nothing of what he felt, icy as the northern wind. “Thank you for consenting to visit me tonight.”

It made what they’d shared just moments ago seem mercenary, which- Mycroft reminded himself- was exactly what it was. Gregory dropped into his bow, bending smartly at the waist, and walked to the door.

Mycroft wanted to call him back.

He stayed silent.

Gregory opened the door without a backward glance and slipped into the darkness of the hallway, closing the door behind him with no discernable sound. Mycroft sat in his bed where Gregory had left him, staring blankly into the dark for a long time. He finally stretched himself out beneath the sheet and tried to sleep. His bed smelled like Gregory. Alpha and sweat and semen.

It was hours before Mycroft was able to sleep.


End file.
